


Happy Birthday to Me

by dragonQuill907



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen, Kid!John, Kidlock, kid!Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-07
Updated: 2015-05-07
Packaged: 2018-03-29 10:11:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3892465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonQuill907/pseuds/dragonQuill907
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is the day of Sherlock Holmes's ninth birthday party, and not one person is there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy Birthday to Me

Sherlock sat in his room, staring out the window into his backyard. He sniffed and stroked the fur of the dog lying next to him.

“It’s okay, Redbeard. We told Mummy no one would come.”

The dog nudged his head into Sherlock’s palm.

“I didn’t expect them to, anyway.”

Sherlock sighed and tore his gaze away from the window. He got up and studied his bookshelf, looking to lose himself in a science textbook. He paused, considering how odd it was for a just-recently-turned-nine-year-old to be so fascinated with chemicals and reactions, human anatomy and diseases.

Maybe that’s why nobody showed up. Or maybe it was because every time Sherlock tried to say something, people found it rude. Sherlock didn’t mean to be rude. Really, he didn’t. It was just so hard to know how the other children would react. Sherlock could deduce whose mother was sleeping with so-and-so’s father, which teacher was stealing from the donation box in the main hallway, who cheated off Sally Donovan’s test, even the status of the principal’s marriage, but he couldn’t figure out people.

Sherlock didn’t feel like reading anymore.

“I didn’t want a stupid birthday party in the first place,” he muttered, sitting down next to Redbeard.

“Sherlock!” his mother called. “Come downstairs!”

“Why?” he shouted back.

“Don’t question me, young man! I am your mother, and you will do what I say!”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and trudged downstairs.

“What is it, Mummy?”

“You have a guest.” Mummy gestured to the small blond boy standing in the doorway. A teenage girl who must have been his sister stood behind him, her arms crossed.

“Hi, Sherlock!”

“John… hello.”

“Sorry we’re late,” John said. “Someone woke up late after she promised to help me pick out a birthday present.”

“It’s not my fault,” the girl replied.

“Yes it is! You shouldn’t have stayed out all last night.”

The girl rolled her eyes. She smiled at Mummy. “What time should I pick him up?”

“Oh, John can stay as long as he wants.”

“All right, Johnny, I’ll pick you up in a few hours.”

“Don’t forget,” John warned. “Bye, Harry.”

“I’ll see you later, Johnny.”

John turned to Sherlock and grinned. Sherlock blinked a few times but smiled back anyway.

“Why don’t you two go upstairs and play?” Mummy suggested. “You can show John your room.”

Sherlock nodded. “This way,” he said, bolting up the stairs. John followed him happily.

When they got to Sherlock’s room, the taller boy paused. He turned to John, frowning. John furrowed his eyebrows.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Why did you come?” Sherlock replied, ignoring John’s question. “No one else came. Why did you?”

John shrugged. “I want to be your friend.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re really smart, and I liked your experiment that you did for the science fair,” John replied. “The one with the frogs. That was really cool.”

Sherlock closed his eyes and thought for a moment, tugging at his hair. He nodded to himself and looked at John once more.

“Do you want to play pirates?”

John frowned, and Sherlock felt his eyes widen in fear.

“I don’t know how.”

“That’s okay!” assured the dark-haired boy. “I can show you. You can even be a captain if you want.”

“Okay. That sounds really fun!”

Ten minutes later, Captain Watson, the daring and charming outlaw, was chasing the infamous Captain Holmes around the bedroom, both boys yelling and shouting over each other.

“Tell me where you’ve hidden it, you scoundrel!” Captain Watson commanded, waving an imaginary sword at the other pirate. “I know you know where it is!”

“Whatever are you talking about?” Captain Holmes asked, opting for the casual defense. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, old friend.”

“Don’t you lie to me. You’re Captain Sherlock Holmes!” exclaimed Captain Watson, clambering onto Sherlock’s bed. He glared down at the other boy.  “You know everything.”

“Perhaps you buried it in the wrong place?” suggested Captain Holmes. “It happens to the best of us. Except for me, of course.”

“I found the map in your chambers. I know you have my treasure, Captain Holmes, and I’m not letting you go until I have it back!”

“Then I guess you’re stuck with me forever!”

Captain Watson pounced on the other boy, catching him by the arm and dragging him to the floor. They fell in a heap on Sherlock’s floor, limbs tangled together. Both boys giggled uncontrollably. Sherlock’s stomach started to hurt, and he wrapped his arms around his torso.

The door to Sherlock’s bedroom opened, and Mycroft walked in, looking more irritated than usual.

“Sherlock, can you please quiet down? I’m trying to study.”

Sherlock frowned at his brother and stood up, pulling John along with him. He narrowed his eyes, sizing up his brother, who was, in turn, eying him warily.

“Sherlock, don't-"

"That's Captain Holmes to you," John interjected.

"And Captain Watson!"

Mycroft frowned as the two boys looked at each other. A slow smile spread across John's face. Sherlock nodded, agreeing to put aside their differences for, say, ten minutes.

"Captain Watson!" Captain Sherlock shouted. "There's a killer whale!"

“Sherlock, stop being silly,” Mycroft said.

"Man the cannons!"

"The cannons won't work, Captain," Sherlock said. "We'll have to go in close-range."

Captain Watson nodded and lifted his sword. Captain Holmes grinned and followed suit.

“Sherlock, you wouldn’t.”

“It speaks!” cried Captain Holmes. “We must kill it before it grows more intelligent!”

“William Sherlock Scott Holmes, you put that sword down now,” ordered Mycroft.

“Come on, Captain Watson!” yelled Sherlock.

Mycroft fled the room with Captain Watson and Captain Holmes hot on his heels.

Sherlock knew Mummy hated when the house was noisy, so he wasn’t that surprised when she caught him by the arm and fixed him with a stern look.

“Sorry, Mummy,” he mumbled.

Shaking her head, Mummy let Sherlock and John off with a warning. She herded the boys into the dining room, where Father was sitting in front of a large vanilla cake with strawberry frosting - Sherlock’s favorite.

Even though Sherlock hadn’t been counting on it, Mummy had honestly hoped more than one child would show up.

Father stood up and walked straight up to John. Sherlock stood next to the shorter boy, hovering nervously. He knew he didn’t have to be worried, since his father was one of the kindest men alive, but he was nonetheless. In Sherlock’s personal opinion, his father was the best man alive. (Mycroft was a close second, but Sherlock would never tell him that.)

“Why, hello there,” Father said, looking down at John. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I am Sherlock’s father. You are?”

“John,” the boy replied proudly. “John Watson.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Watson.”

“Actually, Mr. Holmes, I wanna be a doctor.”

“Oh, my apologies, Dr. Watson,” Father replied. John giggled. “Come, Sherlock, let’s get you boys some cake. You are having a piece, aren’t you, John?”

“Yes, please, Mr. Holmes. But aren’t we gonna sing first?”

Sherlock wrinkled his nose. “I hate the singing.”

“Really?” John asked.

Sherlock bit his lip. John would probably think he was weird, and he would probably leave.

But the blond boy just shrugged.

Sherlock devoured his cake in record time, partly because he wanted another piece and partly because he wanted to get back to playing pirates with John.

When they were done, John insisted Sherlock open his present, which wasn’t at the table.

“I think I left it in your room!” John exclaimed, and he ran out of the room to get it.

Sherlock grinned and wiggled in his seat. He almost didn’t notice Mummy and Father smiling at each other over their glasses as John rushed back into the room. He held out a square package wrapped in blue paper. Sherlock unwrapped it happily, and his mouth dropped open when he saw what it was.

“Bees!” he cried. “How did you know I like bees?”

“Remember when Mrs. Hudson brought us outside for science class?” John said. “You kept talking about the bees and yelled at Sally when she tried to kill one.”

Sherlock blushed. He hadn’t thought anyone was really listening to him. He just liked to hear himself talk. And Sherlock especially liked bees.

“Thank you, John! This is the best present ever.”

John grinned.

Sherlock beamed back at him. His face fell, and he grew deathly serious.

“John,” Sherlock said, “there is someone I want you to meet.”

John furrowed his brow. “All right.”

Sherlock jumped up from his chair, grabbed John’s wrist, and dragged him out of the room.

“Redbeard!” he called. “Come, boy!”

The dog bounded down the stairs and ran straight into Sherlock. The boy laughed and scratched behind floppy ears.

“Redbeard,” Sherlock said sternly, “this is John Watson. John, this is Redbeard. He’s my first mate.”

“Hello, Redbeard,” greeted John. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Sherlock grinned.

John’s sister Harry came to pick him up two hours later. The boys were right in the middle of a game of Cluedo when Mummy called them downstairs.

“Goodbye, John,” Mummy said. “Thank you for coming.”

“Thanks for having me, Mrs. Holmes! Bye, Mr. Holmes!”

“Farewell, Dr. Watson!” Father called from the dining room.

Sherlock gave John a quick hug as the shorter boy turned around. He pulled back and felt his face flush.

“John,” he said, “do you wanna come over tomorrow after school?”

“Yeah!” replied the blond boy excitedly. “And I won’t be late this time.”

“Promise?”

“Promise!”


End file.
